


The Ghost of the Red Keep

by CatelynTsukino



Series: Crossover AUs [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fake Character Death, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatelynTsukino/pseuds/CatelynTsukino
Summary: When people begin to drop dead in court, it falls to the Kingsguard to track down who is behind these deaths. Jaime Lannister finds the answer, but it’s nothing he ever expected.Hemightbe safe for now… if he is compliant.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Crossover AUs [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123070
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. Daylight Dissolves Into Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> I have a Phantom!Jaime fic posted already, so it's turn for Phantom!Brienne :D  
> This is a slightly different world from the one we know in the books and the show. Most things are cleared up in the text, but I'll spell the rest out for you here:  
> Nobody has suspected of the twincest so far, for whatever reason. As such, Jon Arryn is still alive (since Littlefinger has no one to blame for his death), meaning the trip to Winterfell never happened. Sorry, Starks won't show up in this!  
> Chapter titles are taken from lyrics from the musical songs, although the story is more inspired by the book than the musical.

Pycelle is found on his bed, smelling of shit so strongly that few people dare enter the room for a sennight.

No one gives much thought to his death. He was an old man, whose body showed signs of fragility more often than not. His passing was only a matter of time.

A fortnight later, a new Grand Maester arrives. They move on.

* * *

Baelish is found in one of his brothels, on the floor. His eyes are open, and so is his skull.

They question all the whores and some clients; none of them seem to have caught sight of any suspicious activity. A bottle of alcohol is found in the room, empty.

"He got drunk and tripped", one of the Gold Cloaks declares. "It happens all the time."

Mace Tyrell is made Master of Coin in his place, and they move on.

* * *

Varys is found on his bed, like Pycelle, but he doesn't smell like shit, and he's not old like the other man.

"He looks almost asleep", Ser Barristan notices, frowning. "We should take a better look at this."

The Grand Master finds traces of poison. "Interesting", he says. "I noticed there was a spot missing in Pycelle's vial stock. I didn't give much thought at the time, but…"

"What would Pycelle do with fatal poisons?", the Queen asks.

"We keep some of them", the man replies, "to prepare antidotes."

They find a new Master of Whispers within the moon, but they don't really move on this time.

* * *

"This has gone too far", the Queen hisses, enraged but still mindful of the body in front of them. "This demands an investigation, _now_."

Tywin Lannister had come to King's Landing for a brief visit. He was supposed to go back in a fortnight; now his bones are to be sent back home five days after his arrival.

"For all we know", the King says later, when she demands said investigation again, "those deaths are completely unrelated."

"With all due respect, Your Grace", Lord Stannis speaks up, "but the Queen has a point. We've had four people dropping dead within a year, and all of them were in good health beforehand—even Pycelle. Something _is_ wrong, and if we do nothing, next time might as well be one of us."

"Exactly", the Queen agrees, hissing. " _Someone_ is behind this. We ought to find out who."

The King sighs. "Alright, alright. Summon all members of Kingsguard and commanders of the City's Watch. We'll get to the bottom of this."

* * *

After a heated discussion, it is decided that two Kingsguard will stay with the King and the Queen, while the other five will join the investigation. If it was up to Jaime, he'd stay on the Queen's side all the time, but alas, he has to alternate with his sworn brothers.

 _This is futile_ , he thinks as he gets ready to leave the Red Keep. _If somebody is indeed behind these deaths, they won't let themselves be found anytime soon._ Regardless, he has to at least pretend to care.

He starts with the pyromancers, because wouldn't it be _funny_ if that damned guild decided to take revenge for not being able to blow up the city? (It's flawed logic, though; Littlefinger had nothing to do with _that_ , and technically the other three _contributed_ to Aerys' decision to ignite the wildfire. If the pyromancers ought to kill anyone, it'd be _him_.)

That line of investigation, naturally, leads to a dead end. He reports his lack of findings to Selmy, who, as Lord Commander of Kingsguard, is in charge, and retreats to his chambers—only to be plagued by nightmares of Aerys and wildfire.

He gets a reprieve on the next day, which he uses to fuck Cersei in five different ways—taking full advantage of the orders she and the king imposed on themselves to stay in their chambers for as long as possible. He feels slightly better when he goes to sleep that night.

Then it's his turn again, for the next four days. Following his companions' course of action, he navigates through taverns, inns and shops. He may not be the smoothest investigator, but people—notably women—seem all too happy with sharing information with a pretty face, so he doesn't think he's letting anything important pass when he comes to Selmy with the same _lack_ of information from the first day. The assassin starts being called 'the ghost of the Red Keep', which, in Jaime's opinion, does not help their task at all.

He gets another reprieve, which is spent pretty much the same way, and then he gets _six_ days of work. _Seven hells, couldn't Cersei try to get me less consecutive days of this damn job?_ Apparently not, given she's taken to call him her savior. It would have been enough to make him put some more effort in this, had he not been so irritated by this whole situation. Any willingness he has is more motivated by a desire to get this over with than anything else.

However, he has no intention to spend another day wandering around the city, so he decides to study the possible routes the supposed killer took to reach their victims. Pycelle, Varys and his father were all found _in_ their chambers, and none of them showed signs of having been transported there, meaning they were left where they died.

He knows the Red Keep is full of tunnels and secret passages. Varys certainly knew of them, and he won't rule out that Littlefinger did too. He highly doubts Father and the Grand Maester were acquainted with them. _Jaime_ is surely _not_ , but it doesn't hurt to try them out. If anything, it's bound to be more entertaining than questioning random citizens as if he was a madman.

He begins with Varys' old room. It is now occupied by the new Master of Whispers, but today he is out of the castle for some reason—he doesn't really care, but he's taking full advantage of his absence to freely examine the room's walls. He assumes Varys picked this one for easy access to secret passages, and he's not disappointed to find one right behind the bed.

Overcome with a sense of urgency, he quickly lights up the torch he brought and crosses the passage. There is a resting place for torches, so he places it there as he pulls the bed back to its place and closes the passage door, hoping the room occupant won't notice someone has been there. He grabs the torch back and, resting his other hand on the pommel of his sword, begins his walk.

There is nothing but darkness ahead—not that he expected anything else—and, as his torch lights up the path immediately in front of him, he sees only dust born out of lack of cleaning—again, nothing out of ordinary. He wonders if these corridors have _ever_ been cleaned as feels his nose getting stuffy.

He goes up and down, left and right, but there is only dust to greet him in the darkness. Only the novelty of exploring a never-seen-before place keeps him going, but even that fades as he begins to sneeze. After what feels like hours, he decides he's had enough and it's time to find his way back to the actual castle.

Only, he can't remember the path he made to get… wherever he is now—fuck, he has _no idea_ which part of the castle he is in at the moment. He tries to retrace his steps, but the dust has already covered most of them, so he gets lost again quickly. He takes a deep breath, lets out a cough and decides to keep going ahead instead of trying to go back. Only, this time he pays extra attention to the walls, in order to find a pattern that indicates there is a door in front of him.

But nothing appears for a good while. He goes up and down, right and left again, the same emptiness ahead of him. He's sure it night has fallen by now; according to schedule, he should be back for supper already. _Has anyone noticed my absence yet? Will Cersei send people after me? Or will everyone just assume I'll be found dead in the morning?_

(For all he knows, it might as well be exactly what will happen.)

He feels his legs getting heavy, something he's rarely felt since his prolonged shifts with Aerys. He must really be walking for a lot of time, if he's this tired. But where is he going to rest, anyway? Sitting down on the dusty floor is out of question; he'll sneeze and cough all night, unable to get actual rest. His only option is to keep walking. These corridors and tunnels must end _somewhere_.

More hours pass by. He feels his eyelids getting heavy too, and his stomach begs for food. At this point, he's given up his wall examination and simply keeps walking, praying to whatever god is awake that the torchlight won't die out—the flame is tiny and weak already, but it still works for his purpose of _not_ tripping.

Finally, something changes. For whatever reason, he looks down and realizes the floor isn't as dusty now. He can actually make out its color, a greenish grey. He also hears what can only be dripping water; it's a distant sound, but it's the first sound he hears that hasn't been made by himself. Naturally, he follows the sound.

That particular corridor ends abruptly, in a pile of bricks. He blinks and straightens himself up, letting the memory run through his head. It's been nearly a decade since it happened, and at least four years since he last thought of it.

No one really knows what happened and how; as far as he knows, nobody bothered to find out. All they knew was that a part of the Red Keep suddenly collapsed, taking the lives of the two Tarth siblings. He can't even remember their faces or names nowadays, only that they were a boy and a girl—they found only pieces of the former's body, nothing of the latter's, but a funeral was held for both regardless.

Last he heard, Lord Selwyn Tarth remarried and sired twin boys, successfully securing his House's blood lineage. He never set foot on King's Landing again, and Jaime doubts he ever will. Nobody in the castle has spoken of the accident in years, and it seems as if most have forgotten about it.

He briefly wonders if both events—the collapsing and the deaths—could be related, but he shakes the thought off and turns left, following the sound of water.

The floor had turned dusty again when he approached the fallen bricks, but now it's getting cleaner. The corridor gets progressively lighter; at first, he thinks he's getting mad from exhaustion and hunger, but soon it's obvious the additional light is not a product of his imagination.

Then, suddenly, the entire corridor is filled with torchlight, making his own useless. _There is someone here_ , he guesses, feeling himself awaken at the possibility of danger. His steps are more careful now, and he slowly draws his sword out to ready himself for any attack.

A few more steps later, and the torches come to a stop. Blinking to adjust his focus, he catches sight of barrels a little ahead of the last torch. His grip on both torch and sword tightens as a memory comes to his mind.

 _The cellars of the Red Keep itself._ One of the many places Aerys ordered to have wildfire caches placed. To this day, he wonders if the Mad King thought he'd resurface from the ashes akin to a dragon; it's the only possible explanation for his desire to implode his own home.

Hesitantly, he puts his torch fire out. It's been almost two decades, but he's not betting his life on whether those caches are reactive or not. If there are more torches after he passes the barrels, he'll simply steal one to guide the rest of his way out. He takes his first step ahead when he hears, "Stay where you are."

He freezes. It's a female voice, but he doesn't recognize it at all. "Who is it?"

"Not important", the voice replies immediately. "But you _don't_ want to risk touching these things. It's wildfire, and any misstep can ignite these things."

"Then how am I supposed to get out of here?"

"Who said you will?"

He swallows deeply as his mind screams at him: _You found the assassin._


	2. Night Is Blind

Jaime has had plenty of time and opportunity to reflect on the fact that he will, like everyone else, die someday. He's come close to it a handful of times, often escaping by a miracle. As a knight and a member of the Kingsguard, he always thought he'd die before reaching fifty years old, sword in hand, bleeding out from whatever fatal blow the enemy delivered on him. Sometimes, in the dark of the night, he wonders if he will die in a pompous execution following the discovery of his affair with Cersei.

It seems that this is not the will of the gods he doesn't really believe in, though. For, if he is right in his assumption, he is about to be unceremoniously killed by the so-called Ghost of the Red Keep.

However, Jaime has no intention of dying without a fight. "If you think you'll just poison me", he whispers, his fingers caressing his sword's pommel, "you are wrong."

"Am I?", the voice replies. "Are you willing to engage into a swordfight right next to wildfire barrels?"

Damn, she got him. "It doesn't mean I'll drink whatever poisonous drink you give me."

The voice hums. "Not willingly, no", it says. He's half sure it belongs to a woman. "But there are many ways to kill a person. Humans are more fragile than one would think."

If only he could make out exactly where the (female) voice comes from, he could stab them (her) and be done with it. But the voice echoes through the tunnels, and he doesn't want to risk stabbing a wildfire barrell by accident. "Why are you so seen on murdering me?", he asks, keeping his voice tone casual.

"Kingslayer", the voice snarls. "Oathbreaker. Man without honor. You killed the king you were sworn to protect, a defenseless man who trusted you with his life." _Yes, the perfectly innocent man, Aerys was. Do people forget he was called the Mad King?_ "And then, as if you hadn't broken enough vows, you defile your sister and put three bastards on her belly." _You talk as if Cersei hadn't been more than willing to fuck me. It was her idea!_

He doesn't defend himself; he's way beyond that. Instead, he says, "But those actions committed against _other_ people, not you. What have I done to slight you so?"

"Are these crimes not enough, Kingslayer?"

"So you are just enacting justice with your own hands? Is that why you killed all the others, including my father?"

"Your father decimated two entire families sorely because of unpaid loans", the voice replies, more calmly than he expected. "Not to mention what he did at the sack of King's Landing—the sack that gave you the opportunity to kill your king. I know he's the one behind the deaths of Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys. Three innocents."

He swallows heavily. The voice's owner is completely right, and the reminder of his failure to save the Dornish princess and her children causes his insides to twist. _But what could I have done? I'd never have been able to get to them in time._

The voice goes on. "Lord Baelish forced his whores to work under terrible conditions, paid them badly and took their children away as soon as they were born. Both he and Lord Varys were men loyal only to themselves, and always had a plot under their sleeves to get more power. They benefited from King Robert's reign, and yet never bothered to be loyal."

He's half-tempted to ask about these plots, but decides against it. The voice might be bluffing, for all he knows—although he somehow doubts it—and the men are dead anyway. "What about Pycelle, though? He's always been loyal—"

"To your family", the voice cuts him off. "Never to the crown, as he's supposed to be."

"I see", he hums. "So, anyone who doesn't fall into your honorable standards deserves death, right?"

He hoped his taunt would disarm the voice's owner, but no. "Right", it snaps. "And you are the next. And then it will be your sister, and your vile firstborn."

 _No. Not Cersei. Not Joffrey._ "Cersei is innocent", he tries to argue. "She only laid with me because her husband mistreats her—"

"Oh, I'm aware of the pain the king has inflicted on his wife", the voice replies. "He is on my list, don't worry. But suffering does not excuse your sister from her sins. After her faithful dog is gone, she will perish next. And so will the Crown Prince."

"Are you going to kill Joffrey because of his blood?" It's pathetic, but he can't help the slight crack in his voice. He can bear his own death, but—

"Of course not", the voice replies, almost gently. "Your other two children are not on my list. But the Crown Prince is a cruel boy who hurts people for fun. Did you know he hits on his siblings on a regular basis?"

No, he did not. "Why should I trust you on this?"

"I know my way through all of these tunnels, Kinsglayer. I hear _everything_. How do you think I learn about the dishonor that reigns at court?"

He doesn't want to hear any more of her explanations. He must find a way to spare his family's lives. "You are… a woman, aren't you?"

"Why does it matter?"

"My lady", he settles on that. "What can I do for you not to go after my sister and children?" There is no point denying her accusations. He can sense she won't believe him anyway. "I'll do anything, but _please_ , don't harm them."

Silence falls—he can hear the flames from the torches behind him crackling, but nothing else. After what feels like hours, the voice speaks up again. "You will come here every night", she states, "and train me in swordsmanship. If it comes a day in which the sun rises without your arrival, I'll make sure either your sister or your firstborn are found dead before sunset."

 _She might be bluffing_ , he tells himself. _She may very well kill you right now, and you'll be powerless to prevent Cersei's and Joffrey's deaths._ But what else can he do, but agree to her terms? "Alright", he concedes. "Do you have a sword?"

"No."

"Then I'll bring it to you tomorrow night. However, my lady, there are two things I must know." He takes a deep breath. "First, I must know my way out and in. I spent hours walking in these tunnels, and I have not the slightest idea of how I ended up here."

"I'll lead you to an exit that serves as entrance", she tells him firmly. "What is your next request?"

"That I see you", he replies. "I must know it is you I'm walking into, not anyone else."

It takes awhile for her to respond. "Fair enough", she says. He sees a torch ahead of him being moved—she's probably grabbing it—and, after a few heavy steps in his direction, he sees her.

Or, well, what he _can_ see of her. Her face is entirely covered by a white mask, but he can tell she's tall and large. _A man's build_ , he realizes. _No wonder she wants to be trained in swordplay._

"This is how you'll always see me", she announces. "And now, to your way out."

Despite her size, she's fast. Before he can move, she blinds him with a piece of cloth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving this warning in all my ongoing fics as I update them: starting this Ash Wednesday (17), Lent begins, going up until March 28th, and I won't read or write fanfic in this period. As the Catholic Church allows us to get reprieves every Sunday, on these days I'll show up again in AO3 and my Google Docs. However, I can't guarantee I'll write entire chapters in one day, so I can't guarantee weekly updates. I might not be able to update some stories at all. I'll still read and answer to comments, just not as often I do today.  
> I ask you to be patient, as Lent is a very important time of the year for me as a Catholic, and I don't plan on breaking it - my time spent with fanfic is bordering on unhealthy, to be honest, so I really need to do this.


	3. Darkness You Cannot Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armed with his discovery, Jaime plans his next steps.

His eyes are only uncovered when they are a few steps from the exit. "When you come here tomorrow night", she says, "you will enter here and walk a straight line until you find me."

He nods, and she releases him. He all but runs out. The moon is high up in the sky, meaning it's late night. _People might already assume I'm dead_ , he wonders as he makes his way back to the castle.

The only available entrance is the one that ends in the throne room. It is guarded by two Golden Cloaks, who are surprised at the sight of him. "You've gone missing the entire day, Ser", one of them says.

"I was busy", he replies curtly. "Now, if you excuse me, I must retire to my chambers. It's late, and I'm exhausted."

As he lays down on his bed—thankfully no one was on his way—he reflects on what to do. He just found the infamous ghost today—and she even confessed to the murders without a drop of shame. She seems to be rather familiar with the castle's tunnels and secret passages, which makes him wonder where she lives to have such easy access to them. And she made a deal to spare his sister and children's lives if he teaches her to fight.

Ha! As if he'd let her live long enough for him to find out whether she is a woman of her word or not. He will take real swords tomorrow and, on the first opportunity, shove his on her and end this mess once and for all. _People might even stop scorning at me if I show up with the Red Keep's Ghost's body. From Kingslayer to Ghostslayer. How sweet._

Since he didn't warn anyone of his return, he is not awakened by anyone. Instead, he rises on his own—certainly later than usual, given the time he came back to the castle—and takes his time dressing up. Meanwhile, he wonders whether he should share his discovery with the others or not. _Not for now_ , he decides. _If I kill her tonight, I want all the credit. If I spread word to the other Kingsguard, they will try to have the glory for themselves._

Still, he must give them something. Not only has he disappeared for the entire day and night, he doesn't think it would be wise to keep seeing Cersei if he somehow doesn't kill the Ghost tonight. _I'll make something up for the men today. If I don't kill her tonight, I'll stop seeing Cersei._

Satisfied with his plan, he fixes his hair before leaving.

* * *

Instead of admitting to having gotten lost in the castle's _secret_ tunnels, Jaime claims to have spent the day in the kingswood, trying to find clues. "I found nothing, as usual", he says casually, "but I had quite some time to think about the killer and their motives. I mean, why would someone kill Maester Pycelle, Lord Baelish, Lord Varys and my father? What could those four possibly have in common for someone to kill them specifically?"

"You mean, aside from their connection to the court?", Ser Barristan asks skeptically.

"Yes", he replies easily. "My father _isn't_ from the court, not really, and Littlefinger died outside the Red Keep. The court may not be the factor tying them together—or, at least, not the _only one_." He inhales deeply. "But there is something else they all had in common: shady pasts."

His Lord Commander inclines forward, seeing he has a point to make. "What do you mean?"

"None of them were paragons of virtue", he replies. "My father was responsible for the decimation of two entire vassal Houses before I was born, and more recently commanded the sack of King's Landing—not to mention he proudly presented Aegon's and Rhaenys' bodies to Robert." Their distaste at that particular event is one of the few things he and Ser Barristan share. He may have killed Aerys, and his grandchildren were good kids who did not deserve the fate they got.

He shakes these thoughts off and goes on. "Maester Pycelle publicly admitted to have advised Aerys to allow my father's army to enter the city, and half of the court whispers that he is more loyal to Tywin Lannister than to the Crown. I know we are not supposed to take rumours seriously, but the killer likely does." It goes unsaid that those rumours are true; he knows it _very_ well.

Ser Barristan hums. "If we are to use rumours for this, there were many about Littlefinger and his brothels—not to mention the one that says he defilled our Lord Hand's wife before their wedding."

"Exactly", he says, glad the older man is seeing his point for once. "As for Lord Varys, being the Master of Whisperers is a shady business is nature."

Ser Barristan closes his eyes in concentration. A few moments later, he reopens them. "If the killer is a Targaryen loyalist, you and the king may be their next victims. You killed Aerys and he killed Rhaegar; both actions enabling House Baratheon's ascension to the throne."

It's the first time he doesn't address his kingslaying with scorn, although his voice is oddly neutral. "They might target you as well", he replies, "for being a 'turncloak'."

Ser Barristan nods. Jaime knows the Ghost is targeting his sister, but he cannot find a way to inform his suspicions without explaining himself—and what other explanation could he give but the unspeakable truth? For all everyone knows, Cersei is merely a piece of their late father's political games.

He does tell _her_ that, later.

"I don't know if this killer is a Targaryen loyalist", he explains, "or someone who just wants to get rid of 'all evil' in the world. Lord Varys' loyalties were always dubious, and Littlefinger's 'evil' doings had little to do with the Crown."

"And you think", she replies, "that us being discovered would make me a target."

"There are secret passages in this castle", he counters. "Ones we do not know of, from Maegor the Cruel's time. Who's to say the killer isn't wandering around them, and that's how they managed to kill four people unnoticed?"

She sighs, but nods. "You have a point. We'll act as brother and sister for the time being, even behind closed doors."

He kisses her one last time before leaving her room. He has an appointment tonight.

* * *

Sneaking out of the castle and inside again is tough work, but years of experience with Cersei made it a lot easier. With two swords in hand, he could not bring a torch, but there are enough hanging up the walls to guide his way forward.

Soon he reaches a broader section of the tunnels, one with a canal running by. The smell hits him a bit hard, but the memory of Rickard Stark burning quickly makes him accept it. Nothing smells worse than a burning human.

He doesn't dare speak out loud, not when he doesn't know where the Ghost is. The torches may be enough to guide him, but it's still too dark to see what's more than four steps ahead or behind. He only knows of the canal because he's two steps from it; and, although he can sense the next wall is not so close, he doesn't dare go further without torchlight to guide him.

Unsurprisingly, she appears from that very darkness. "You came", she half-whispers, half-exclaims, sounding a little bit awed.

"I'm a man of my word", he replies, drawing both swords and handing one to her. "The question is, are you a woman of _your_ word?"

She takes a step ahead and takes the sword he's offering. _Fool_ , he thinks. _This sword is old and unsharpened. You won't last against me._ It is far from honorable, he knows, but isn't he honorless? Is that not what everyone, _Cersei included_ , thinks of him? Why should he act any differently, especially if it means protecting those he loves? The Ghost will be just another kill, another addition to his body count—just as she wants him as an addition to hers.

"Well", she replies, "let's start, and you'll see whether I'm an oathkeeper or an oathbreaker." _Like you_ , she doesn't need to add.

"Alright", he says, lifting his sword. "Show me what you know, Lady Ghost."

Even with her mask covering almost all her face, he can see a faint grin on her lips—which look fuller than average, if the torchlight is not distorting his view of her. "Lady Ghost", she tries out. "I like it. Very well, Kingslayer. Attack me, and I shall defend myself."

 _This is too easy_ , he muses to himself, trying not to smirk as he lunges. She quickly raises her sword to meet his, however, effectively blocking him. He tries again; she moves her body away from him. Again; she raises her gloved hand to catch the sword, and he can't see whether she bleeds from it or not. He tries to circle her, but it's impossible to do so from the side of the canal, and when he steps to the other side, she warns him about the wildfire.

"We're near the corridor we met", she tells him. "Someone who doesn't know their way around will easily stumble upon the caches without a light to guide them."

"And you wisely leave this section dark", he retorts, realizing she put him in a trap. For all he knows, she's buffling, but by now she must be aware that he won't risk finding out. It leaves him with little room for attack and defense. _She must have guessed I could try to kill her_ , he ponders, _and lured me to a place where I can't do it without risking myself._

He realizes, as he goes back to his initial position, that even killing her would be dangerous. Her massive body could fall either in the canal or to the other side, crashing the caches. He _could_ kill her and control her fall, but it's no guarantee, especially with so little space to move around.

He suppresses a sigh and asks her to begin attacking him, so he can watch the way she lunges. _If I truly must teach her_ , he thinks as he easily blocks her (feeble) attacks, _I will show her all the wrong tactics. I'll leave easy openings for the day I manage to strike._

"Your defense is much better than your attack", he says sincerely as he lowers his sword—it would be counterproductive not to tell some truths every now and then, and she must have realized it by now anyway. "How can this be? Most swordsmen learn to attack first."

"As you can see, I wasn't trained formally", she replies dryly, lowering her own sword. "I had to learn to defend myself before I could even think of attacking first for a change."

"Why?"

She huffs. "I was a child once", she states, as if it's something he should have thought of by now. "Weak and scared, with nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Cruel men and women wanted to harm me, and I had to defend myself in order to survive. Soon I realized I had to attack first if I truly wanted to protect myself, but there is only so much I can do without actual training."

The way she says it almost makes him pity her, but he refuses to do so. "I see", he limits himself to say. "Well, Lady Ghost, I cannot afford the luxury of going back to the Keep as late as I did last night. If you allow me, I should better return now."

"Come here tomorrow at the same time", she says.

"I will", he concedes, "but I won't be able to do so every night. I have night shifts, from which I cannot leave to come here."

"Tell me in advance then", she retorts. "If you fail to warn me… you know the price."

He nods, trying not to gulp. She may not be a very good fighter, but she's strong and powerful enough to carry on her threat without him being able to stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly to explain why Jaime doesn't kill the Ghost right away, as the plot needs them to keep meeting and to bond :D


End file.
